


Doll

by orphan_account



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Anime, Romance, Triple Drabble, getting ready for a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24756619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tamaki loves how Haruhi looks like this, – all dolled up, just for him – yes, but he lovesHaruhimore.
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Suoh Tamaki
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Multifandom Drabble 2020





	Doll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hmweasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/gifts).



She’s wearing a skimpy chiffon dress above sheer stockings that kiss her legs, and Tamaki almost trips over his own feet as he lets himself in through the unlocked door. His cheeks feel redder than the roses he’s holding when their eyes meet. Haruhi smiles.

“Tamaki-senpai,” she murmurs, glancing at him before glancing in the mirror; at the wig in her arms with its silk-straight strands spilling through her fingers.

For just a moment, she looks like she doesn’t know the girl in the glass. And Tamaki realizes her lips are too pink; there are too many frills on the dress’ too-short skirt and her feet are wobbling in heels that shine. Brand new.

And Tamaki loves how Haruhi looks like this, – all dolled up, just for him – oh yes, but he loves _Haruhi_ more. So Tamaki tells her. It’s easy; his heart was always sewn to his sleeve, anyway.

“Haruhi-chan,” he says, “I like you the way you are.” 

Tamaki’s voice is low, more serious than he meant it to be, but Haruhi’s big eyes widen as she lets the wig tumble; as she watches it drop to the dresser.

“Oh,” she says afterwards, gazing up at him as if she’s thinking, “Oh. Okay.” 

Except Tamaki doesn’t want her to think. Not about this, at least. So he leans forward and fills her empty hands with flowers instead. 

Tamaki scoops her up, then, just because he can and he’s wanted to, – oh, he’s wanted to since the moment he stepped in – hands finding her waist to pull her close, pressed against his chest. The bouquet is crushed between their bodies now and Haruhi is laughing, telling him they’ll get late.

But this time, Haruhi’s cheeks are just as red as his, redder than the roses she’s holding. Tamaki smiles.


End file.
